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<title>The Taxes of Lust by A_Fine_Piece</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199342">The Taxes of Lust</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece'>A_Fine_Piece</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Thin Red Line [42]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Lust, Prostitution, Seduction, Taxes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:47:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[Set prior to the beginning of the series.]  The Mistress of the Peony House calls upon Hisana to seduce a client.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Thin Red Line [42]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/93946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Taxes of Lust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is rare for Hisana to be summoned to take tea with the House Mistress, and, sitting politely with back straight and hands tucked into her lap, she can’t shake the feeling that she has done something <em>wrong</em>. </p><p>Meetings with the House Mistress are never taken lightly for the mistress is a shrewd and exacting woman. Her job demands such traits, as she is tasked with keeping the courtesans and girls in training in line with the House’s financial mission:  Make more money. </p><p>“Hisana,” the mistress addresses her cooly as she puffs on her delicate tobacco pipe, “it’s an emergency.”</p><p>Hisana shifts on her sitting cushion and furrows her brows.  “What?” </p><p>It certainly doesn’t <em>seem</em> like an emergency.  It is noon.  Her brothel mistress appears serene.  There are no fluttering attendants.  No raised voices echoing down the hall.</p><p>“Taxes,” the woman says and takes a long drag off her pipe, “there is a situation with taxes that we need taken care of today.”</p><p>Hisana chuckles lightly and shrugs.  She has nothing to do with the tax policy coming out of the Central Chambers.  None of the courtesans do.  If anyone could lobby on behalf of the brothels, it would be the brothel owners themselves.</p><p>Not that brothel owners were a breed of people who did much of the dirty work… on their own….</p><p>“I presume my honorable Mistress hasn’t called me here to scrutinize the House’s books,” Hisana notes slyly.</p><p>“I’d think not.”  Her mistress chortles at the thought.  “However, I think your talents are suitable for this particular situation.  You see, Lord Yogi is conducting interviews of the interested parties to this new tax policy.  He’s a prude.  A rube, if I’m being perfectly honest—”</p><p>“And?” Hisana interrupts, hoping to hurry her mistress along.  “My appointment with Lord Masuda is soon,” she recovers, smoothing the edge from her voice.</p><p>The woman chews on her pipe for a moment and gives a little grunt in annoyance.  “Your appointment with the lord has been rescheduled.”</p><p>Hisana quirks a brow at this.  “Why?”</p><p>“Because of this tax policy, Hisana!  Are you not paying attention?”  Exasperated, her mistress swats the side of Hisana’s arm with her folded fan.  “If this tax policy is inked, more of your hard-earned money will go to those ridiculous nobles!”</p><p>“What does that have to do with me?” Hisana asks, rubbing the sting from the fan from her arm. </p><p>Rolling her eyes, the mistress heaves a grumbling sigh.  “You shall entertain Lord Yogi this afternoon.  <em>Convince him</em> to quash the legislation, Hisana.”  The mistress pats Hisana’s shoulder, as if a simple pat could soothe the sting of trading a paying customer with a non-paying customer.  “Trust me, an additional tax will make you paying off your debt that much onerous.”</p><p>Hisana snorts a little at this.  <em>As if her mistress cares.   As if she could ever pay off her debt in this lifetime or a million lifetimes.  </em>The system was set up for her and all the other women to fail.  There is no hope of winning freedom or climbing out of what amounted to slavery.</p><p>The brothel mistress’s arm snakes out, and, before Hisana can resist, the mistress has taken Hisana’s chin between her thumb and index finger.  “Pray the taxes don’t go into effect, Hisana,” she says darkly, “and this House continues to <em>thrive</em>.”  The words, so tightly coiled, curl around Hisana, threatening to strangle her with their meaning.</p><p>
  <em>Pray you don’t wind up on the street, Hisana.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pray you don’t become a common whore, Hisana.</em>
</p><p>“Understood, Mistress,” she says, keeping the fear from her face, and she is out the door.</p><p>It doesn’t take Hisana long to summon her attendants into working order.  She has ordered one of the manservants to pull together all the available information they have as a house on Lord Yogi.  Meanwhile, she and several of her trusted maids tear through her personal kimono collection and the house’s kimono collection.</p><p>“What about these, Sister?” one of the girls calls, her voice soft and gentle as she offers a selection of kimono, perfectly layered and matched to be worn together.  The alternating patterns and colors are lovely, and, had the situation not been so unique and so dire, Hisana would have complemented the girl on her taste.</p><p><em>However</em>, none of them will do.  By the brothel mistress’s account, Lord Yogi is a prude, a rube. A sinking feeling in her stomach tells her that if she is going to persuade him, donning riches isn’t the proper course of action. </p><p>“Simpler,” Hisana says, keeping the strain from her voice, “I think we must go simpler.” </p><p>“Miss Hisana—”</p><p>At the sound of her voice, she whorls around to find Shunsho, her manservant, rounding the corner into her quarters.  “Any news?”</p><p>“Yes, Miss Hisana.  Quite a few of our social contacts are familiar with Lord Yogi.  He is, by all accounts, an ascetic.  A man who, despite his reputed good fortune, lives a simple life with his wife, with adherence to proper Confucian ideals.”</p><p>Hisana’s hands travel over a few more kimono that drape off the arms of her attendants.  With a decided nod, she selects a deep blue kimono with a simple sakura flourish at the hem.  Immediately, her favored apprentice begins dressing her in garment as she considers Shunsho’s words.</p><p>“Only a wife?” she asks.</p><p>“Unfortunately, it seems that way.”</p><p>“Unfortunately?” she echoes the word, savoring the taste of possible opportunity.</p><p>Shunsho nods his head.  “According to several sources, they have tried unsuccessfully for years to conceive.”</p><p>A small grin tugs a corner of her lips up.  “I have an idea,” she says, eyes trailing to the small sliver of glass set against the wall in front of her. </p><p>“Yua,” she begins, voice clear and dulcet as she addresses her young attendant, “I think we should go less ornate on the hair.”</p><p>The girl nods her head and begins plucking pins from Hisana’s dark tresses. </p><p>“Half up, half down,” Hisana continues, cocking her head to the side as she considers the role that she will assume for Lord Yogi as deeply as if she is preparing for one of her dances. “I want to look dreamy, undone.”</p><p>What she <em>wants</em> to say is that she <em>needs</em> to look like Lord Yogi’s sexual salvation.</p>
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